Tone Poem
by curdled-milk
Summary: Hot Blooded Woman. A mood piece. What would you give up to be the hero? And what does that mean anyway? One shot. Not actually a poem. it was saved under that title, i don't know why, but i must've had a reason at the time.


-- A somewhat nonsensical mood piece. Set after the end. Not that tacked-on end N years in the future where everyone is alive and happy. But the real end. Where the action is. I don't own HBW. No really. I don't. Not the characters, not a thing. My "plot," now that I own. For what it's worth. A breath of hot air and nothing more. -----

He lights another cigarette, the smoke hazing around him. He'll never give it up. There's only ever been one reason for him to stop and she's lost to him now. His fingers are stained from the constant nicotine, reminding me of the crushed yellow flesh under a half-healed bruise. The smoke in air, the gray ethereal smoke, it masks the light—like his eyes, those twinned facades. But sometimes, at the end of the day, I can sense it, his bitter soul, reflected in that faraway look, like a melancholy contrail in an empty sky.

The concrete is cold against my back, hard along my spine. I don't know how he does it, how he can look so at ease slouched there, as if he doesn't have a bone in his body. Sometimes I wonder what he's thinking—until he speaks, and then I wish I didn't know.

Today, we're on a roof, some dilapidated tenement building, long abandoned to the rats and squatters. I've long since learned not to question him, why he comes to these places. It never does me any good.

The sun is going down, a ball of red against the yellow haze of the city. It is beautifully misty, the shifting tones, the fading light, if only you can forget that this is the toxic air we're breathing in. I wonder if I'll even live long enough to be poisoned by it. I'm running the probabilities through my head when he speaks.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like?"

"What?" I never know what he's talking about.

"To ride off into the sunset."

"Fatal." I've always been a pragmatist. And we have responsibilities here.

"I've never been a hero."

"And you want to be?" I'm incredulous.

"Not really." His eyes cloud over and he stubs out his cigarette. The embers are the color of the dying sun.

But I know what he's not saying. I'm jealous too. He wants what the hero has; the freedom to leave it all behind, the freedom to seek a new anonymity as the credits roll. We both know that's not really what being a hero is all about – the accolades, the 15 seconds of fame, the backstabbing, the reversals of fortune, the girl. But all we see, all we really want, is that movie finish. The ending, closure, the completion of this story. Freedom.

The reality: we're not heroes, of any streak. Even that much is beyond us. We're the villains here. You know us; our families are the true power in the city. We own it; the politicians, the law. We control them. Well, our fathers do, and so someday, we will. But our family is young, only recently did our fathers get where they wanted to be. The doubt has not yet been bred from us, the desire to have a different life. Instead, we've been beaten into submission. Slaves to our father's dreams. Carrying out their dirty work, so that the business can thrive. They could hire this work out. There are plenty of unscrupulous thugs in the world. But this, this blood on our hands, it binds us to them. We can never escape, and we know it.

We promise ourselves that when we are of age, we will treat our children better, and not turn them into the monsters that we have become. We promise things will be different, and we know we lie.

He rebels in little ways, pretending the family doesn't notice. He plays games with other people, like the games his family has played with him. It doesn't help. Nothing helps. He is still twisted and tortured and damned.

I wonder if he knows the reason I am still here. Why my father has not sent me away. If I were him, I'd be suspicious. I should have left months ago. After all that. It would be easier to break him if I were gone.

At least that's what I thought. But I was wrong. I break people. That's what I do, that's all they taught me. "A lesson in finesse," my father had said, laughing, "To get what we desire." This is my test. The worst thing that has ever been asked of me. (And I've been forced to do some pretty awful things. The blood of innocents has never looked so red). But never before have I had to betray a friend. My best friend. My only friend. It used to be my boast, that I was loyal to the last. Now I have to wonder, loyal to whom?

The sun has gone down, the city lights are lit. He hasn't moved.

"Let's go." He stretches, stands, waits for me.

"Where to?" Not that I really care.

"I need action." In the city glow I see his narrow smile. If there were any emotion behind it, it would be a sneer.

I am so tired. Tired of the masks. Tired of being here, being this. Being me. I always swore I was loyal. Until he betrayed me. He kept the first secret, I tell myself. He hurt her, he hurt himself. And now he lies every day. He tells himself he's better without her. That it's enough that she's alive. He tells himself that she betrayed him. But who was the first betrayer? Him, always him. I think I could hate him. If I didn't love him. Perhaps it's a little of both.

His brother called me in for a meeting last week. Asked me questions. Showed me pictures. So many pictures. I had thought it was over. But no. _Why her_? He asked me. _What's so special about her? She's not pretty, She's not smart. _I told him. She was pure, she was passionate. She amused him. _And now?_ I thought he left all that behind. You remember. _Look again._ The pictures were recent. He's watching her. She's alone. Where's that obnoxious boyfriend of hers? In university. A different city. I hate Sin Uoo then. What I wouldn't give to be in school. A proper education. _I want her dead._ He said to me. _She's a distraction. A wild card. A risk. She knows who we are, and what we do._ She's my friend, I said. _Han Seo must kill her. Of his own will._ I think my shock must have showed. _She weakens him. Distracts him. Because of her he's become wild, uncontrollable. Kill her. Break him._ This was his family's command. My orders. Betray him, betray her. My reward: freedom. Of a sort. They'd have to send me away then. I weaken him too. But University. I wouldn't have to torture anyone for years. A quiet life, like I always wanted.

I can't do it. Not even for that. Not even after all his betrayals. Not even after all of hers.

Is this what love is? Self sacrifice? Well, it sucks.

I have to tell him. Before this goes on any longer. I'm breaking on the inside.

"Han Seo." I start.

"Hmm?" He looks at me as if he knows what I'm about to say.

I stand, pace to the edge of the roof, stare down at the street below. "When the sun sets, where does the hero go? Has he burnt up in the flames? Has he died in the dark?"

"That depends." He laughs, a bitter sound, "On if there is a sequel."

He has a glib answer for everything. "In this case." I say, "There's a sequel."

I can tell he's looking at me. Trying to read me. "Is there?"

"I think, when the sunset fades, the hero stops riding. He doesn't chase the dream of sun. He knows he'll never catch up."

"Or if he's smart, he knows it'll be coming up behind him. He keeps riding to try to escape."

Now I know. "You can't outrun the sun."

"Is this the sequel?" He steps closer. Menacing. Menacing me, his only friend! I hold my ground. Where is there to go? I'm on the edge of the roof. What have I got to lose? Only my life.

"You tell me." I raise my jaw. Can he see my determination though the dim air?

"They want her dead." It is not a question.

"It's you or her."

"So that's the way it is." He doesn't sound surprised. "I gave her up. She gave me up. She should be safe." Is that his hand shaking, or is it a faulty street light?

"They know."

"Know what?" Now he does sound surprised. But I know now, what a good actor he is. It wouldn't do me a bit of good to challenge him. So I reach into my jacket. Pull out an envelope. Pass it over.

"Ahh... I've been followed." He smiles, that slow sweetly malicious smile I know so well. "So, me or her, is it? And they chose you to tell me this, why?"

"They want you to kill her."

"And what do you think? Should I kill her? I could do it, you know. She's tough. But I fight dirty."

"You could never kill her." I shake my head. "That's why I'm telling you this. I was supposed to set you up. A shootout. She'd be caught in the middle. Your brother, he wants her dead, and you broken."

"So what?" His hand is gripping my arm. Painfully tight. "You tell me this why? What do you get out of it?"

"You said it yourself. You can't escape the sun. They promised me freedom, of a sort, if I did this thing. But what kind of freedom is it to have done a thing like that? You may have betrayed me, but I know where my loyalties lie. Just as I know where yours are." I do not say the words I long to; You're the sun, Han Seo. You burn so bright, you consume everything in your path. Except Ha Ji. If you're the sun, then she's a nova. If she can destroy a thing like you, what chance have I got? I am but a man. I know better than to ride off into the sunset. Better to fade away than chase after a burning star.

"You're a fool." He throws my arm away, as if it disgusts him.

"And that makes you, what exactly?"

He doesn't answer. He's thinking. He can't escape his family. He can't run away. He can't have her. If he fails to kill her, then what? They will kill him. He's too much of a liability. They think breaking him will help. They remember what he was like when she died before. They can work with that.

"I don't love her." He turns and walks away. "Isn't that enough?"

"If it were true. Perhaps." But I doubt it. She's a symbol either way. And symbols are dangerous.

"And what would you know of love, Jeong Hyeop?" His back is to me, but I can hear the sneer in his voice. He knows the answer. Everything and nothing.

I turn to watch him. His hair whipping in the evening wind. The new moon coming up on the horizon. Stark, he is, etched out across the night. Dark, like a shadow passing through. And like a shadow, transient, an insubstantial life. So what does that make me?

I know now what I must do. I think I knew before.

I draw my gun from inside my jacket. I point it at his back. My aim is steady. My aim is true.

I watch him crumble.

"What do I know of Love? Han Seo," I stand over him; speak to the fading light in his eyes, "Every thing I know, I learned from you. I love you enough to kill you."

I know it's the right thing. I flip my cell and dial a number. They are on the way. It's the right thing. He couldn't have killed her. Not and lived with himself. I couldn't bear to see him suffer. And if he refused? I've seen his punishments before. The damage they would do be before they killed him. I couldn't bear to see him suffer.

Oh. And this way? Ha Ji gets to live.

I make another call. A warning for Sin Uoo. She will be safe now. They can only dare so much.

I'm no hero. I have responsibilities. No sunset finish for me. No University either. No end. No sequel. Just this, and nothing more. Blood and pain. Darkness and night. But I will remember, through all they do to me. I was loyal to him after all. Until the end.

I smile. Han Seo; he got to be the hero at last. Fading in the wind. Chasing after his setting sun.

Finished.

I miss him already

_fin_


End file.
